Second Best
by Chainlinks
Summary: Lavender loves Seamus who loves Dean who pities Lavender. Slash.


Author's Note: Lavender POV, mostly because I worship the ground she walks on. Warnings for fifth year scariness, boy on boy romance and unrequited het. As always, I don't own any of Hogwarts' pretty student poplution.  
  
Second Best  
  
You asked me where he was. You're always polite when you talk to me. Well, politer than you are to the rest of them. You asked me in that polite way of yours where Dean was, but polite as you were, you didn't even say hello to me properly. You gave me your customary First-of-Term Hug and said, "Lav, have you seen Dean anywhere? I couldn't find him on the train."  
  
I was hurt, just a little, but I only shrugged and said, "Sorry, Seamus." You walked away from me and didn't say goodbye.  
  
I suppose I can't blame you, can I? Dean's a muggleborn and these are difficult times for muggleborns. I bet you worried all summer for him. How many owls did you send him? How many times did you lie in bed, wishing he were safely beside you? How many times did you try to convince your mum he should stay the summer with you?  
  
I'm muggleborn too, but you didn't worry about me, did you?  
  
I love you, but you love Dean and don't care.  
  
Love sucks, doesn't it?  
  
I wish I could hate Dean. I wish I could be angry at you both. I wish I could be furious at you for rejecting what you didn't even notice. I wish I could feel something for either of you except this awful pain.  
  
I watch you as you find Dean. You hug him. The hug you give him isn't as big or friendly as the one you gave me, but the delighted kiss you share with him immedietly after more than evens it out.  
  
You let your hair grow out a bit this summer. You'll let me put a few braids in it tonight in the commonroom, won't you? Of course you will, if I ask. You'll sit on the floor with your legs tucked under you. I'll sit on a chair with my legs behind your shoulders. You'll talk a lot, I know you will, and I'll be lost in touching your beautiful hair.  
  
You'll talk about Dean, won't you? You'll rave about his soft skin, his soulful eyes, his gentle smile. You'll say something about his tongue then, mischieviously trying to provoke a reaction from me. It will work of course, because that's the relationship we have. I'll squawk, then give your hair a playful tug. You'll pretend it hurts more than it does and drag Dean over to "protect" you.  
  
Dean knows, of course. He knows exactly how I feel for you, and he pities me because he knows what it's like to love Seamus Finnigan, and understands it must be worse for me, loving unrequitedly.  
  
Is that why I can't hate Dean? Because I'm a pathetic creature, thriving off his pity? Maybe.  
  
You're walking up to me now. Dinner's over already, I suppose, and we're walking to the rooms. "Prefect Hermione told me the new password," you tell me. "It's 'Lions for the cup'. A bit longer than most of the ones we've had before, but I like it." You smile blindingly. It's the smile that makes Dean melt, so Dean flashes me a pitying smile because he knows it makes me melt too.  
  
"I like it too. I hope we go all the way again this year!" I say, a moment later than I should have.  
  
You don't notice, just smile and nod. "Oh, you know we'll win. Harry will make another death-defying rescue at the end of the year and Dumbledore will award Gryffindor just enough points to win."  
  
I smile and agree, laughing. "You're hair looks great," I tell you.  
  
You touch your hair, almost shyly. "I'm still trying to figure out if Dean likes it or not. He made this really odd face when he saw it. I was thinking maybe you could help me fix it? Like maybe put some of those braids you're so good at in it? It doesn't have to be anything fancy."  
  
I blush. He's asking me? I'm not asking him? "Of course, Seamus!" I exclaim, none of my sudden nervousness leaking into my voice, and even if it does, you don't hear it.  
  
"Thanks, Lav, you really are the best!" you say, giving me another tight hug.  
  
You lied. I'm not the best. Dean's the best, remember? I'm second- rate, second best. 


End file.
